Mark Kozelek

Who knows why, but I've always pictured Kozelek as an aloof, distant artist. One of those cursed artists, in the vein of Lou Reed, who make their own greatness weigh heavily on the poor, ordinary listener. This idea is reinforced by signs prominently displayed at the entrance of the church in Villanova (Castenaso, Bologna), a message reiterated aloud by the organizers: the artist doesn't want photos, the artist doesn't want videos, the artist wants phones switched off, the artist wants absolute silence. It feels like entering the Temple of Jerusalem.

The opening of the latest Sun Kil Moon record is emblematic in this respect: the first line of "Ålesund" (No this is not my guitar, I'm bringing it to a friend) is nothing more than Kozelek's typical response to the random fan who runs into him at the airport and stupidly asks whether the thing he's holding is really his guitar. And it's just as telling that "Ålesund" has consistently opened his shows over the last couple of years.

But theses exist to be disproven, and in Villanova something changes.

The show opens with the story of "Glenn Tipton", the first ghost of the great highway. The reverent silence (after all, we're in a church...) is broken only by Kozelek's hushed yet evocative voice, singing his thoughts over the perpetual motion of intricate arpeggios. The nylon strings of the guitar reverberate naturally against the marble, soaring walls of the space. The artist seems at ease on the altar, seemingly aware of the mystical atmosphere he's creating; "pretty unsettling, huh?" he remarks. He tries to interact with the crowd, rarely getting a response: "are you getting what I'm saying?" he asks; but the audience is left speechless, swept away by the poetry.

Most of the setlist is devoted to his more recent output, but the warmest applause goes to the two classics drawn from Red House Painters' rock-solid self-titled debut, "Take Me Out" and "Katy Song". Kozelek moves and hypnotizes the crowd (especially with the mantra-like "Heron Blue"); at times he surprises the audience with unexpected covers (not so much Ac/Dc's "You Ain't Got A Hold On Me" as Genesis' "Follow You, Follow Me").

After Katy Song he walks off, but comes back to the altar to stop the endless loop of applause and asks what we want to hear. Titles are shouted from the crowd in droves, many of them from Kozelek's earliest work (someone even dares to yell "Lord Kill The Pain"!!!), and he, with the look of a man begging for mercy while smiling, remarks "that's twenty-year-old stuff!". Turns out not even the gods of music are immune to feminine charm, since he plays "Carry Me, Ohio" and "Summer Dress" at the request of a single girl. Then he thanks everyone, politely, and leaves.

Malcolm McDowell once said that a true leader knows when to yield, and how to be generous toward his inferiors. And my impression is that Mark knew it too, that night in Castenaso. Underlining, as if there was really any need, the difference between us and them; because, unlike what Pink Floyd used to sing, we are not all ordinary men.

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